To soothe his lonely soul
by garfieldsieuquay232
Summary: Hurt, sure isn't something that could easily be defined by words, and loneliness has never been a pleasant feeling. Oneshot. This story is dedicated to NorthernTrash-x for awesome fics "Markings" and "Playing with fire".


**Author:** **garfieldsieuquay232** aka **T.H.L**

**Disclaimer:** **Bleach** and all its characters **belong to Tite Kubo**

**Genres:** **Angst**, **Hurt/Comfort**

**Summary:** thoughts of Ichigo about Grimmjow

**Author's note**:

This story is dedicated to **NorthernTrash-x** for awesome fics "**Marking**" and "**Play with fire**".

Thanks to my dear beta **Kurasuchi **and my friend **Cassandra Nguyen** who gave me a lot of helpful advice :)

* * *

**To soothe his lonely soul**

_Whosoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god_ — Aristolte

* * *

Whenever I touch others' zanpakutos, I can feel their emotions.

That moment, finally I touched his sword.

In him, I felt rage.

In him, I felt desperation.

In him, I felt pain.

In him, I felt loneliness.

_..._

_Everyone has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe_ — Neil Gaiman.

_Everyone has their own inside world, so what does your world look like?_ — That question left unanswered, 'til that moment, when I finally saw his world.

There, things stood still. The wind never blow. Sand and rocks stretched endlessly before me. Leafless trees dotted the ground, reaching their bare branches up to the sky. The eerie moon was of cold ice, casting its silver light over the landscape of endless sand.

There's no sound to be heard of. Just the dead silence filled the air.

That place was cold and dark.

_That place had no life._

My eyes roamed over the scene, and suddenly a thought came across my mind.

I knew where I was. That place was his inner world. _A lonesome place_.

...

I saw his inner world, and started to wonder what his life had been before?

Of all the time he lives, what agony had he been through, what joyfulness had he ever tasted?

What had his world been like, for his inner place such a lonesome one?

...

And then, I saw his past.

As we clashed our zanpakutos, shatters of his memory flashed before my eyes. And the pain started to build up in my chest.

...

Whenever I touch others' zanpakutos, I can feel their emotions, even the deepest ones.

_Deep inside his heart, there's nothing but loneliness_ — strange enough, that thought itself can make me feel sad, and my heart aches whenever I recall that moment.

Hurt, sure isn't something that could easily be defined by words, and loneliness has never been a pleasant feeling.

...

I call his pain "_the loneliness of the king_", for the king who stands above others always have to shoulder the weight of his people, and forever be in solitude.

...

He has always wanted to be the king, and I know why, as shattering pieces of his memory flashed before my eyes the moment I touched his sword.

He has always wanted to be the king. He desperately wants it so much that he will do just anything to climb up the throne and claim it his. Just as much as I want to protect those dear to me.

So I told him, the moment his eyes started to lose their color, "I'll fight you as many times as you like".

I have my dreams, and he too has his. I don't want to crush his hope.

I just want to see the brilliance of determination in his once blue eyes shining bright again.

...

Aizen was defeated, along with his subordinates — _the Espada_. Most of them were dead, while the rest was captured. But still, _he_ was nowhere to be found.

...

Is he alive?

No one knows.

Where has he been?

No one knows.

What does he want?

Still there's no answer.

What will he do next?

No one knows, and I'm no exception. It's sad to know that.

I can't _see_ anymore, can't _feel_ anymore, whether it's he or his inner world.

And it even saddens me more to know that I have gradually learned to accept this fact.

...

Whenever I look at the sky above, I think of him, of his very pure blue eyes, of his teal hair and that very familiar arrogant smirk.

There's still no news of him, but it's fine. I would rather believe he's still alive, somewhere out there.

I'll fight him when he comes to me.

I'll hold his hand when he falls.

I'll help him to stand once again on his feet.

And then, I'll see it, the flame in his eyes — _the flame of resolve and determination _— shining again in his very beautiful eyes.


End file.
